The Words I Never Said
by SketchyWords
Summary: Just my take on a scene from Becca Fitzpatrick's Hush, Hush sequel, Crescendo. Instead of walking away, Nora agrees to go home with Patch. Words left unsaid are the one's that speak the loudest. One-shot. *Short part 2 just added!*
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Becca Fitzpatrick owns any **_**Hush, Hush**_** characters that may appear in this story. Most of this fiction is purely from my imagination. Please do not post it elsewhere without my express permission. No copyright infringement intended.**

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><p><em>Songs that inspired me:<em>

**FRESH PAIR OF EYES** by _Brooke Waggoner_  
><strong>FLATTERY<strong> by _Aly & _AJ  
><strong>GLITTER IN THE AIR<strong> by _P!nk_  
><strong>MASSIVE ATTACK<strong> by _Paradise Circus_  
><strong>EXIT WOUNDS<strong> by _The Script_  
><strong>POISON &amp; WINE<strong> by _The Civil Wars_

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><p>. . . THIRTY SECONDS TICKED BY BEFORE I HEARD VEE'S VOICE FLOAT THROUGH MARCIE'S BEDROOM WINDOW. <em>(Fitzpatrick 228)<em>

_Oh Thank God!_ I thought, my heartbeat racing, even with this new found relief. I undoubtedly had faith in Vee's ability to lie effortlessly on the spot. It didn't take her much to come up with a distraction.

"What?" Marcie cried out, the shrill sound of it enough to erase any confidence I had in Vee just a moment ago. "I don't see any police cars."

I huffed exasperatedly and silently cursed Vee for drawing Marcie's attention out her window, where I was currently lurking. And the cops? It'd be a huge scene if the cops actually showed up. There'd be flashing blue and red lights and frantic teenagers loitering out on her yard trying to avoid ending up in the back of a cop car tonight. As far as I could tell there was no sign of distress downstairs.

If only Vee could work on her subtlety.

I squeezed my eyes shut tight, half hoping if I couldn't see her then maybe—by some inane chance—she couldn't see me too. I just desperately hoped Marcie would not open her window and look out. Who knows what she would do if she found me here like some kind of obsessed psycho perv? She'd probably call everyone out to laugh and taunt me then leave me there stranded for days.

I mentally shuddered at the idea.

"So?" She snapped. I didn't hear what Vee said but somehow she still had Marcie's attention. "It's a party."

"Yeah and we're all underage." Vee countered. "What's mommy and daddy gonna think when they have to pick you up at a precinct because a couple of guys were knocking back booze and who knows what else?"

Finally I heard the glorious sound of Marcie's dagger-like high heels receding. My body almost sagged in relief.

I waited for the lights to blink off before I made any move. I leaned up hesitantly on Marcie's windowsill, cautiously aware of my foot placement and that I barely had anything to grab onto if I slipped. Using my left arm as support to hold myself up, I pushed up on the window pane with my right.

I frowned. The window didn't budge.

I pushed again, harder this time. I made sure to lean up on my forearm and press my right hand higher while my left hand worked lower, practically grunting with the effort but . . . nothing.

The bitch locked her window!

Panicking, I smacked my hand against the glass pane, not sure what good could from it. Maybe someone was still outside Marcie's bedroom and if they heard the noise I was making, they'd come in to investigate. Or maybe Vee was coming back; she was just waiting for a chance to sneak past Marcie. I didn't care weather it was the former or the latter.

Glancing down from my perch on the roof, I felt my breathing accelerate. I smacked against the window again, with no real hope.

Suddenly, a buzzing erupted in my pocket. Idiotically, that's when I remembered I had my cell phone! I wanted to thunk myself across the head. Eagerly, I dug into my pocket for my phone, hoping I was right and Vee would be coming to my rescue anytime soon.

My hopes faltered when I saw Patch's number lighting up my screen, and in a moment of stunned-surprise, I forgot where I was and lost my support on the windowsill. My body sagged, causing my foot to slip off the edge. I struggled to grab onto to anything, the hard edges of the shingles digging into my torso as I slid down the roof like melting ice.

I shrieked a hoarse sound that barely escaped my throat. My voice felt strangled; I was too scared to scream.

I felt the wind explode around me—sort of like when air escapes a balloon all at once—when arms snaked around my waist. My body recognized these arms, along with the rest of his muscles and hard lines like a reflex. I was no longer plummeting, but sort of . . . just . . . suspended. Time seemed to slow down dramatically and for a moment, Patch and I were in our own bubble . . . My heart was hammering and my adrenaline was spiked because of the rush of falling and my sudden nearness to Patch. He was all warm and solid and minty.

Finally we touched down on the ground, landing gently like a loose feather. We didn't move. I sort of couldn't. It hit me hard how much I missed this kind of contact with Patch, being this close. It made me confused and conflicted and flustered with this ongoing battle with myself to stay away from him.

I didn't get why the arch-angels wanted to hurt Patch but I understood that if I wanted Patch around, we couldn't be together in the way that I'd hoped we'd always be. But that didn't mean I didn't need space. It was too soon to be around Patch so much because I still missed him, I still wanted him. We had broken up days ago so I didn't expect the feelings we had for each other—whether it was love or not—to just vanish . . . even if Patch made it look that easy. And since he was my guardian angel, that meant Patch would be around me in some, way, shape or form, protecting me . . . like now.

_You're trembling . . . _

I was no doubt a little shaken up, but being around Patch made me feel unsettled. I felt _too_ aware of him—his hard lines and warm touch, the way he always smelled like earth and soap . . . the way his fingers were grazing a piece of skin peeking out from under my tank top. It was all too intimate and my face warmed when I thought of all times we did get too intimate. It was all unnerving.

Avoiding his dark eyes, I sat up and moved off him. But I felt emotionally too exhausted to get up. I sat there with my arms wrapped around myself, trying to chase away the last of his lingering warmth. I wanted nothing more than to get away from Patch but my feet wouldn't move. Leisurely, Patch sat up himself, ducking to get a good look at me because I was hanging my head and my hair did a great job at hiding my face. This gave Patch the initiative to reach out and try to push my hair back.

I flinched away instinctively and met his gaze. A small line formed between his brow, his otherwise controlled expression a look of concern or confusion. He stayed silent as he dropped his hand back to his side.

"I think you should stay away from me." I started quietly. I tried to gauge his reaction but he was the epitome of the expression 'calm and collected'. "I'm trying _really_ hard to forget about you but you keep showing up everywhere and when you do I can't, can't think straight." I continued and managed to look him in the eyes while I quietly admitted, "I don't want to want you."

Looking away, almost uncomfortably, he rubbed his jaw in that thoughtful gesture I'd come too gotten used to and sighed. He stood, clasping his hands behind his head and turned away from me. All I could do was watch him. After a moment to himself, he dropped his hands and turned back to me.

"I was ready to head home. Did you plan on staying a little later?" he asked me quietly.

I wasn't sure if this was an invitation or not.

"It is." He answered directly. My eyes shifted toward Marcie's house where the party was still in full swing. Vee still hadn't shown up looking for me and I was a little miffed by it. I could've gotten seriously hurt just now, all because Vee had forgotten about me. No matter, Vee would bitch me out tomorrow if I ditched her at Marcie's party.

Patch gave a short laugh. "Vee can handle herself just fine without you."

I frowned. He was really getting to me now. He didn't have any right to invade my thoughts and I'm sure I never gave him any permission either. I didn't like being on full display.

"Sorry."

"And you're doing it again!" I exploded.

Patch laughed again. "I'm sorry. Really," He smirked. "I'm just trying to catch where you train of thought is. You're not as predictable as I make you out to be." He admitted. He crouched down so that we were somewhat leveled and trained his expression into one of sincerity. "Can I drop you home? I'll even buy takeout. Mexican, Italian, Chinese . . . whichever." He offered.

I looked up at him. "Did you hear anything I just said? Patch, I need space."

"I get that," He murmured his hand ghosting over my hair. "just not tonight. You almost got hurt."

I sighed. "Takeout sounds good."

†•†•†

It was about 10:00 when Patch rolled up in front of the farmhouse. With all the lights off, the rickety old place looked haunted and hollowed out. My mom was out again for the night and I wouldn't expect her until late afternoon tomorrow. Since dating Patch, we were always together so I wasn't alone as often as I used to be. I had forgotten how lonely it could get.

"What are you thinking?" Patch whispered. We had driven the whole way relatively silent and I guess he didn't want to shatter the silence we had grown comfortable with.

"I'm thinking," I murmured quietly. "I want to eat outside. Under the stars." I didn't know what it was about the outskirts of town, but the stars seemed to burn brighter out here. I guessed that since there weren't as many lights or pollution to cloud up the night like in town, more stars glittered up the night like diamonds on a sheet of black. It sounded childish aloud, but for once the fog that normally surrounded the farmhouse was almost non-existent. It was typically like that during the summer.

I watched Patch step out of the Jeep Commander and walk around to my side. Like a gentlemen, he helped me out and hoisted me up on the hood of his car, his gaze boring into mine.

I shuddered a little.

He hopped up beside me on the hood, placing our bag of Chinese takeout in my lap. I stayed silent as he leaned back and closed his eyes, his hands resting on his abs . . . he looked content . . . With my small box of lo mien in my hands, I leaned back against the windshield as well and gazed up at the stars.

We stayed like that for a minute.

"What's it like in heaven?" I wondered aloud. It was such an abrupt question; it must've caught him off guard. It was weird, when I thought about it, that my former boyfriend was my guardian angel and I had never asked him anything about heaven or his line of work. _What is God like? What was it like to be an arch-angel? What kind of powers did an angel have other than mind-manipulation?_ I glanced over at him wondering what he might say.

He had on a small smile. "You'll find out when you get there."

"How do you know I'll get into heaven?" I countered, cocking a brow at him. He opened his eyes and gave me a curious look. "Maybe I'll end doing something worth a trip to hell."

"Not a likely scenario. And not something I want to imagine."

I thought about it for a second, "I sin all the time and I've probably broken at least four commandments in my life—not to mention, I almost never go to church."

"Everybody sins—even angels—and tons of people don't go to church. All that really matters is a person's faith . . . and love in their God." He murmured. I mulled that over and wondered if Patch had great faith.

"Why does God need angels anyway, if he's all knowing and powerful?" I forked a wad of twirled noodles in my mouth.

"God's only one guy and there's about 6 or 7 billion people in the world. The decisions he make benefit the masses. Angels help look out for people a little more individually. Guardian angels can have up to 5 or 6 humans to watch over at a time. There's not many of us." He explained with his gaze fixated up at the stars glimmering down at us.

_If guardian angels are low in supply, why are the arch-angels trying to get rid of him?_ I wondered in the privacy of my thoughts.

"They're against me because I was given a second chance and they find me undeserving." He replied. "Not that I blame them."

I studied him for a moment. "I think everyone has redeeming qualities." I muttered around a mouth full of lo mien. "But I'd be a little more gracious if I were given a second chance." He gave me a sidelong glance but said nothing. Instead he directed his attention toward the only thing he ordered: fries. "How many people do you watch over?"

"Just two," He gave me another sidelong glance. "You. And Marcie."

I froze, my chewing slowing to a stop. I wasn't mentally prepared for him to tell me this even though some part of me suspected that's why he was always around Marcie now. It was most likely the reason why he showed up at Marcie's place the night I made my stupid confession. I originally knew I was being irrational when we broke up and I was looking for excuses to end things with him because I was scared. It was stupid and selfish of me when I thought about it. But this newly required knowledge made that day feel like a huge mistake on my part and I couldn't afford to think that way.

Stabbing at my noodles, I stuffed a wad of lo mien in my mouth. I didn't trust myself not to say something I might have regretted later. I felt like a monster for the way I attacked him that day, because now I couldn't blame him. I couldn't make it all his fault or make him the bad guy.

I calmed myself enough not to blow up about it like I knew I might, and tried asking a safe question. "Why don't you have as many people to watch over as other guardians?"

His eyes narrowed a little. Was he disappointed? Did he expect me to ask something else? "Since I've just become an angel, I'm starting from the beginning again. The arch-angels want to wait until I'm fully accustomed to a guardian's role and rituals."

"So they pick who you watch over?" It didn't sound like a question but he nodded anyways. "Why did they—" I started but thought better of it and just continued to stuff my face. But the lo mien wasn't as appetizing anymore. Huffing, I closed the small Chinese container and threw it in the bag. If I didn't send Patch off at any minute, I'd say or do something really stupid and I couldn't be bothered with any more regrets for the night.

Patch sat up on attention. "What are you doing?"

"Thanks for the takeout." I spoke curtly and slid off the hood of the jeep. "I'm home and safe. So you can just go."

He hopped down just as hurriedly and grabbed my arm before I could make it far. "How can you still be angry at me?" He was incredulous and for the second time in the time I had known Patch, he looked anything but 'calm and collected'. He was just as flustered as I was and just as exasperated. For once we were on the same page.

"Just leave it alone, Patch." I said quietly, but I was all charged up and venomous.

He shook his head stubbornly. "No. You didn't let me explain last time."

I whipped my hand out of his grasp and crossed my arms tightly over my chest.

"I have never done anything wrong to you and I thought you'd know by now that I'd never try anything intentionally to hurt you." He told me and I could tell how desperately he wanted his words to reach me but he only made me feel irrational. I still wanted to play the victim and he was making it really hard to pin him as the bad guy.

"So I'm safely assuming its part of a guardian's job too get real cozy with the people he's looking after." I snapped. "I mean it's the only thing that explains how you could even kiss her!"

"She kissed me, remember?"

"I saw it all for myself, Patch." I retorted. "You treat her better than you treated me." Pulling his stupid baseball cap from my back pocket, I chucked it at him. The flimsy thing hit in the chest.

"You're mad because I gave her my hat?"

"It's not just that!"

"Then what? What is it Nora? Are you jealous because I gave her my jacket? Because I've seen her naked on more than one occasion? Or is it because I hang out with her more than I hang out with you now? Cause that's your fault, you know!" It was the first time he had ever raised his voice around me. Everything he was saying just hit me like a ton of bricks. I felt speechless. "Why does it matter if I kissed her back? It's like you said—I can't feel any of it! I can't feel anything!" He barked.

I screamed just because I couldn't find any valid argument. Because screaming was all I could do to release this pent up anger that was tearing through me like a hot knife. "Shut up!" I screamed, shoving and hitting him everywhere I could. I pounded him with fist and kicked him like a child on a tantrum. But it did no justice because he couldn't feel any of it. Just to taunt me, he started smacking himself around too. It was like laughing in my face. "Just shut up! I wish I had never met you, you asshole!" I shrieked. I gave one last push, shoving him against his jeep, and in a moment of defeat, body sagged against him. His hands wrapped around mine, holding me to him and I could feel myself crying into his chest.

Patch's body sagged too as he leaned back against the jeep, wrapping his arm around me and cradling my head. He was just as emotionally strung out as I was. If he could, I think he'd cry too.

Clutching onto him, I cried out everything I had in me until finally my tears and sobs were reduced to sniffles. Patch held me through it all. "I never would've hurt you like that." He whispered, gripping me so tightly I was sure he was afraid I'd disappear like a mirage.

"You don't think I know that?" My voice was hoarse and I was sure I was a red puffy mess. I swiped my face with my sleeve and took a deep, shuttering breath. "It's easier to believe the bad stuff when everything feels like it's slipping away from you. It's easier to be the victim." I admitted. Pushing back from him, I managed to regain a bit of my bearings. I fisted his shirt in my hands again, running my thumbs over the tear stains I made there. How embarrassing—to blubber like a baby in front of a guy who's never felt a tear run down his cheek.

I gave a short laugh when I realized I wasn't all that mortified and glanced up at Patch. "I messed up your shirt." I sniffed. "I can like, wash it for you if you want." His hands came up and cupped my face, his thumbs running over my cheeks. He was too quiet and I felt too vulnerable with him just staring at me. "What are you thinking?" I whispered. Unlike him, I couldn't just dip into his thoughts whenever it felt convenient.

"I want to kiss you." He whispered back.

I frowned but as he leaned in, I said nothing. I felt him brush his mouth against mine, testing out my responses. It wasn't exactly a kiss, but more of an illusion of one. It was chaste and unusual from our heated kisses. I found it was warmer and much more intimate, this gentle caress of our lips. Reflexively, I kissed him back, indulging in the warm feel of his lips gently, slowly rubbing against mine.

He pulled away slightly, his thumb stroking my cheeks while his face hovered just inches from mine. I peeked up at him and pulled in a shaky breath. How could one person hold so much of me in just his hands? How could he make me feel so sheltered but so alone? Was it really wrong to want this—this warmth nestled in my heart? If it was, why did I love him . . . and why couldn't he love me too?

I could feel the waterworks start up again; I stepped out of his grasp and tried to recollect myself. "I'm sorry." He apologized and I wasn't sure what for. Was it for getting involved with Marcie, for kissing me, or for not loving me back? Regardless, I couldn't take anymore of his apologies.

"I'm tired." I sniffed resignedly. "I'm just gonna go inside and get some rest."

"Okay." I started to head inside when he spoke again. "I can give you space like you asked . . . I'll do that if that's what you still want."

I looked over at him. My resolve hadn't changed. Even if we understood each other now, that didn't cancel out the arch-angels involvement in this. I still thought I was doing the right thing.

"I do."

"Okay," He nodded jadedly.

"Thank you," I murmured. I turned to go inside.

"Good night angel." He murmured. Once safely inside, I stood with my back up against the door, listening to the sound of his jeep pull out of the driveway and the sound of his engine fade away. And like that, he was gone and I was alone again. I slid down to floor and just took three deep breaths.

_In . . . out _

_In . . . out _

_In . . . out _

Glancing down, I recognized my father's gold band wrapped around my finger. I hadn't even realized when he managed to slip the thing on but I could definitely feel the last of his warmth absorbed in the solid metal.

Slipping it off, I held it up; I remembered the day my dad gave it to me. I remembered the heart inscribed on the underside. But on closer inspection, I noticed the two names also inscribed in it in a fancy scrawl. The names _Nora_ and _Jev_ had been etched in on either side of the heart.

And if you turned the ring around, you'd also catch the words: _Forever and Always_.

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><p><strong>AN:** Liked it? Loved it? Hated it? Leave me a review. This was fun to write, so I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did. Maybe if I get over 30 reviews I'll on to it. Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: ****I ACTUALLY SUGGEST YOU READ THIS.**

Okay, so I wrote this a while back, thinking I'd this into a multi-chapter fic, but feel absolutely uninspired to complete it. I hadn't planned on writing more. However, I'm against deleting it considering I took my time out to write this for you. So here it is—the incomplete part 2 to The Words I Never Said. Enjoy!

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><p><strong>Disclaimer: Becca Fitzpatrick owns any <strong>_**Hush, Hush**_** characters that may appear in this story. Most of this fiction is purely from my imagination. Please do not post it elsewhere without my express permission. No copyright infringement intended.**

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><p><em>Songs that inspired me:<em>

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><p>I WAS PICKING UP AN ORDER WHEN SCOTT PUSHED IN THROUGH THE DOUBLE DOORS, SPORTING A FAT GRIN.<p>

"Grey!" He cheered, throwing his arms up in the air. I took him in_—_heavy-lidded gaze, lazy smile and swayed steps_—_as he approached me. Within a foot of me, his hand wrapped around my jaw, long fingers biting into my cheek as he rocked my puckered face from side-to-side. "I've been looking everywhere for yoooou!" He cooed. I shoved his hand away and rubbed my cheeks.

"You're drunk." I frowned.

It wasn't a question nor was I really shocked about it, which surprised me since I didn't know Scott like that. Yet, I sorta realized that Scott did have a problem_—_whether it was drinking or gambling, I didn't know.

He leaned over, his face suddenly inches from mine and cocked his brow. "Am I, Grey?"

I could smell the faint aroma of liquor on his breath. I pushed against his chest, watching him rock back unsteadily. "Well, I'm just guessing but you smell like a brewery."

"Well if that's case, it's a good thing I ran into you." He grinned, unabashed. "I'm exhausted and some guys I hung with were heading out to a party at Delphic. I'd ask one of 'em to take me home but they're just as smashed as I am."

"So you want me to drive you home." I guessed.

"Exactly," he sighed like he had taken a load off. He braced his hands on my shoulders and looked at me seriously. If I didn't know better, I would've thought he was about to ask me the most important question of his life. "Would you, Nora Grey, be my designated driver?"

I rolled my eyes.

"I'm still on the clock." I told Scott truthfully. " I don't get off until nine. Sorry."

He almost pouted, nudging his fist into my chin. "You never do anything fun."

"Being you chauffeur is _fun_?"

"It is when you get to drive _The 'Stang_."

I cocked a brow. "'The 'Stang'?"

"Come on Nora," He groaned, nudging me again. "Friends don't let friends drive drunk."

"Yeah and real friends don't let friends _get_ drunk." I chastised then sighed. "Sit down. I'll take you home when my shift is over."

He frowned and made a whining noise in the back of his throat. Suddenly his hands shot out and then he was shaking me. "_Noooorrrrrraaaaa!_" He whined. Who knew he could be such a child? For a moment, he rocked me back and forth like that, whining at me until I caved.

"Alright, alright!" I snapped, pushing away from him. "Fine, just give me a minute you big baby." I was pretty sure that new my boss wouldn't mind if I decided to cut through my shift and she didn't.

I had been working at Enzo's Bistro for a little over a week now. If it didn't interfere with my summer school course, I'd spend most of my time here. I'd take up extra hours, doing little things like stocking up on straws and napkins for the dispensers or take in inventory every night. It wasn't the funnest job but since Vee was too hung up on Rixon and I didn't have a boyfriend to constantly obsess over, I had nothing better to do.

Don't get me wrong. I was glad that she was enjoying her summer romance. She even sang "Summer Nights" over the phone to me once and laughed at herself afterwards. It was cute, really and I couldn't be more happy for her.

I just wished that I wasn't the third-wheel. I can't tell you how much it sucks to be lonely.

"Thanks again," Scott yawned when I settled into the driver side of his mustang. I guess he wasn't kidding when he said he was beat. Suddenly, all of the drunken enthusiasm was drained out of him and he looked almost harmless. For a second, I could've said he was cute. You know, in a boyish way that softened his jerky personality.

But I said nothing as I started up the mustang and pulled off the curb.

†•†•†

20 minutes later, I was winding through a narrow path, down on Deacon Rd. I stopped in front of an apartment complex, with tiny balconies and the butt of rusty air conditioners sticking out of every fifth window. The place looked like it could use a little renovation.

I parked the car and killed the engine. "We're here."

I waited a moment before I was poking Scott in the neck to wake him up. He shifted restlessly in his seat and grudgingly woke up enough to open his eyes. But as soon as he took in the complex, he just slumped back in his seat.

"C'mon," I frowned impatiently. "I brought you home like you asked."

"I had to beg you." He snorted, shifting in his seat some more so that his back was to me. I scowled and reached over to pinch his arm until he was sitting up again.

"I should've gone to the party instead." He muttered. He turned to me. "Come on, lets go. It's still early and I could use another drink."

"No." I told him firmly. "You begged me to drop you off and that's what I did."

He threw his head back and groaned petulantly. "Honestly, it's not like you've got anything better to do. And besides how are you supposed to get around without a car?" He pointed out with his eyes shut as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "I think I'm getting a headache."

"Why can't I just take The 'Stang home and bring it back tomorrow after school?" I asked, ignoring his last comment. "You can pick it up at my job."

"Maybe I don't want to lend my car." he muttered.

"Well why not?"

His hand left his face and then he was looking at me thoughtfully. "I dunno." He shrugged. There was a pause and for a moment he just studied me. Distractedly, he reached out to twirl a mahogany curl around his long digit. "Maybe I meant to get you alone." He murmured much more quietly, his expression too sober all too sudden.

I froze a little, a chill settling into my spine. What was I supposed to make of that? Maybe I was being a little paranoid but the last time a guy tried to get me alone, it was to kill me.

I started to panic_—_my heart hammering and breath leaving me shakily_—_as he drew in towards me. I felt his hand disappearing into my mess of curls before I felt his lips pressed against mine. Like that, everything just seemed to stop: my heart, my breath, my body. I found myself only able to stare wide-eyed, tense and rigid in my seat as Scott Parnell kissed me.

Strangely enough, my body wasn't rejecting this. In fact, my body seemed to hum to life with this new found warmth where his hands caressed my face and my eyes fell closed. His lips were dry and rough against my soft skin, but not unpleasant as his kisses grew more insistent and admittedly, even a little sloppy. And though I was too wound up really to enjoy any of his ministrations, I couldn't ignore how nice it felt to have his lips run across my jaw or nip on my neck.

But it was strange being like this with Scott. I mean, it was _Scott_. Scotty the Potty. The kid I've known from the time I was still haunted by the boogeyman.

And he was kissing me.

What's worse was that the first thing my mind jumped to was that he was not Patch. My body was accustomed to Patch's measured hands and practiced kisses.

I couldn't even remember the last boyfriend I had (well, other than Patch). Being with Patch had always consumed my thoughts. Every time his skin met mine, every time he played with my hair or looked into my eyes, I drifted farther away from reality. I had forgotten what it was like to kiss another guy. A normal guy. And it made me hate the part of me that liked it. Especially when his fingers stroked the expanse of warm flesh under my top.

That is until his fingers slowly started creeping up. Then I remembered where I was and why I couldn't myself enjoy this. The more I let my mind delve into this, the more uncomfortable I got and soon I was cringing away_—_trying to pull away from Scott's insistent grasp.

"What are you doing?" he groaned roughly.

"You're drunk." I told him and if I didn't know better, I'd think that when he threw the car door open and hurled out all over the asphalt that it's like I'd given him a cue or something. "See," I muttered to no one in paticular.

"Fuck!" he hissed and groaned, not even attempting to sit back in his seat. He let out another hurl and I found myself a little less than grossed out and a lot more piteous as I rubbed his back. I heard him, rather than see him spit out the rest and suck in a deep breath. Grasping onto his sweater, I lugged him back into his seat and roll the 'Stang a little farther up the block.

I threw my head back, wishing I wasn't such a good person and that I could leave Scott here as intoxicated and disheveled as he was. But I couldn't. So I sighed and hauled my ass around to the other side of his car, trying my damnedest to carry most of Scott's weight as I pulled him out.

"C'mon buddy," I groaned and started for the complex.

†•†•†

Scott sat on a red stool, hunched over the counter in his u-shaped kitchen. For a boy as big as Scott, his place was miniature. And when I say miniature, I mean Barbie's Malibu dream house puts the place to shame. There wasn't a lot in the small apartment_—_very little furniture, a small fridge too big to call a mini-fridge and a narrow hall that led to three other doors. It's mean, but I could see why he'd want to stay away from home.

I scoured the fridge for a little water but decided to go with tap water since there wasn't much accept for some cake wrapped in aluminum, leftovers and three bottles of beer. I ran the water and waited for it to cool. I was sure he wouldn't mind.

"Here, you . . . go?" I turned from the sink with a cup of water but Scott wasn't hunched over the counter like I thought. "Scott?" I called out and when I looked down the hall, a silver of light peaked out from a door on the right.

I peered in a little. Scott was rinsing out his mouth with mouth wash, having already brushed his teeth. Gingerly, I squeezed in and I popped-a-squat on the hood of his toilet. He swashed the cool blue liquid around his mouth a few more times before spitting it out into the sink. I held up the cup of water to him when he was finished splashing his face with cold water and waited silently as he downed it in thick gulps. If his eyes weren't so heavy and his skin so pale, he'd look like a model in one of those high-priced ads for athletes or something.

"Thanks," he muttered.

"You probably should've taken that with an aspirin or something. You're gonna feel like crap tomorrow morning."

He shrugged and settled on the edge of his stained, porcelain tub. It was old and the tile behind him was grimy. "I always do." He studied me for a moment, almost appraising me. "No one's ever looked after me the way you do. Not even my mom." He remarked. "It's weird."

I laughed. "It's weird?"

He cracked a smile, scratching the back of his ear in the way that he does. "Not _weird_ weird," he explained. "Just weird in a nice way. I'm not used to nice."

I picked at my nails.

"Where's you mom?" I asked quietly.

"I don't know. It's probably bingo night."

"You're alone here a lot?"

He rested his elbows on his knees and he nodded. "Pretty much."

"Same here." I shared, fussing with my nails. "My mom's usually away at business when she's not here keeping an eye on me. And since my dad died, my place has been really . . . empty. There's pictures and furniture and junk but it's like nobody lives there anymore."

"Most things are temporary."

"That's a morbid way to look at things."

"It's the only way I look at things." Scott shrugged.

I frowned. "Is that why you choose to get wasted?"

"Life sucks bad enough when you're aware that you're a screw up. At least when you're half out of it, it's easier to ignore. It's easier to pretend that some things aren't real."

"Scott," I said seriously and when he wouldn't look at me, I took his hand in mine, squeezing it. I wasn't sure what I wanted to say to him and there was plenty that I could say, but wouldn't be anything Scott would want to here. He glanced up at our linked hands and squeezed me back.

"Don't pity me, Grey." He warned.

"You've been neglected, that's all." I said softly and tried to ignore this weird feeling I got in my stomach. I was almost startled when my cellphone suddenly chimed. It was a text message from Vee. I had called her earlier, asking her to pick me up at Scott's place. "That's Vee." I told him. "I should get going."

We both stood and I realized just how small this bathroom was when there was only a few feet between us.

We shuffled out_—_me awkwardly, Scott leisurely_—_and he walked me to the door like a gentlemen. "Thanks again," Scott murmured too closely and I just nodded. I was just about prepared to peel out of there when he tapped my shoulder and I turned around instinctively. Suddenly, his lips were on me again.

Surprisingly, it was a softer kiss. A warmer, more sober kiss that made me want to kiss him back. And in it's tenderness, it seemed all the more intimate. He pulled away slightly, his lips still hovering over my lips so that I could feel his 'goodnight' brush across them.

"Goodnight," I said too and tried to focus all of my brain power on making it down the stairs without tumbling. I ghosted my fingers over my lips, trying to think of reasons why I shouldn't be taken with Scott when I caught a sight that froze me in my tracks.

"What are you doing here?"

Standing on the curb was Patch, waiting with his hands in his pockets. He looked up as I approached hesitantly, almost reluctantly. His expression_—_like 80% of the time I had known Patch_—_was unreadable.

"I asked Vee if I could pick you up." Knowing Vee and her distaste for Patch, I kind of doubted she'd agree without much convincing . . . and Patch didn't beg.

"Why?" I wondered.

He didn't answer me right away, but when he did, his tone was indiscernible. "She told me who you were with."

I gave a little laugh. "Scott is harmless."

"I don't like him." He shrugged.

"Because he's nephilim?"

"Okay." Patch agreed as if that was sort of the answer.

I sighed off his worry. Scott really was harmless. "I can take care of myself. You don't have to worry about me."

"Yeah," He agreed thoughtfully. "I'm well aware."

I turned toward his Jeep. "You know, if you're gonna drive me around all the time, I'd be happy to hire you as my chauffeur. You can't get around much on foot in this town."

I looked up at him curiously as he dangled the keys to the jeep above my head. My eyebrows furrowed.

"What?"

"Take the jeep." He shrugged, like it was no big deal. My eyes narrowed suspiciously. This wasn't Oprah_—_you didn't just give away cars.

"Seriously?"

"No joke."

"Seriously?"

He gave me a look. "Nora,"

I looked from the car to him again. I shook my head. "You're not just gonna give me you car."

"But I am just giving you my car." He insisted, pushing the car keys at me.

"Why?"

"I won this car out of a pool game, Nora." He said dismissively, pushing the keys at me again. "Seriously, I'm not gonna miss it." I eyed him uncertainly, debating on taking him up on his offer or not. "Nora, take the car." Patch insisted some more, so I caved. Without hesitation, I snatched the cold metal out of his hand.


End file.
